Rivals
by LovetheWords
Summary: Ichigo is a Vizard under the forced control of Aizen, soul society's greatest enemy. Rukia Kuchiki is a soul reaper, stationed in the real world. Aizen sends Ichigo to the same town. He wants to play, but, is Ichigo the right pawn to start a war?
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Bleach. **

**I'm killing Yamamoto! Rejoice my friends, he is dead! Well, in here, at least. I want to display a unique soul society, one that no one has ever seen. Besides, Yamamoto creeps me out.**

Something about the human world…appealed to Rukia. It charmed her with it's unique tastes, constantly changing styles, and bold, diverse inhabitants. Rukia had met more people that she both liked and hated in a single week than she had in her entire life in soul society, something different, considering she originally believed she wouldn't have to meet and converse with humans.

Normally, when a soul reaper was on duty in the human world, they stayed as souls, unknown to the humans. But, Rukia's assignment was different, it seemed. She had been given a gigai, something she was expected to use whenever combat was not required. For whatever reason, she was to mingle with the humans, to act and live as one of them. It was an interesting assignment, one she could find herself enjoying with time. She only hoped there was a reason behind it.

* * *

The sand was soft, the air was cold, and all was silent. It felt like hell. Ichigo sighed, falling to the ground with a slight thud, cushioning his head with his arms. Hueco Mundo's never changing moon lay above him, yet another bleak reminder of where he was. For a moment Ichigo considered going to one of the numerous and useless sun rooms within Hueco Mundo, if only to see blue sky and sunny weather. But then, it would be spoiled by knowing each moment he spent there would be under eyes of Aizen. No, he was better off outside, where Aizen had a harder time watching him.

Ichigo shifted, once again noting how soft the sand was, something that wouldn't have bothered him had he not known how sand was supposed to was supposed to be coarse and warm. The ground of Hueco Mundo was more like dust. In fact, nothing there was as it should have been. Not the moon, the trees, the sand or the sky. Not even the air, living in an atmosphere where every breath included a new absorption of reiatsu. He hated it there, his inescapable prison.

Ichigo sighed once again, closing his golden eyes, his lashes tickling the tops of his cheeks.

He was dreaming. You could always tell in Hueco Mundo. You were aware, but you could not control the dream. God, Ichigo wished that he could though. It was that same dream.

"Damn it!" The dream Ichigo growled, running as quickly as possible, school bag slapping his side, moving with his momentum. The real Ichigo watched. It was all that you could do. Only the ghastly specters in the dream could speak and move. They were the ones running the show.

"I am so fucking late!" Ichigo groaned, still running. He raced down the street, lucky to be the only one there, not having to avoid pedestrians or throw out an apology each time he bowl someone over. He turned a corner, almost tripping over a stupid cat that simply had to choose that moment to run from the bushes.

Despite his efforts, Ichigo didn't manage to get home before dark. Hell, as soon as the sun went down, he stopped trying. Real Ichigo didn't mind. He wished dream Ichigo would never get home. Things started to blur. Real Ichigo didn't want to be there, he didn't want to see this again.

The house was in view, that dinky little walk in clinic his father would never let go of. All of the lights were on, blazing bright and obnoxious. Ichigo was still unaware, walking up the steps too quickly for real Ichigo's liking. He walked in with his eyes closed. He wouldn't see the beginning of hell, not yet.

Red was always the first thing he saw, so obviously contrasting against the white of the walls. The intentional excess of light glistened mockingly in the wet puddles of blood, it's scent still fresh in the air. The sickening liquid touched every corner of the room, splattered over every surface.

Amongst the blood lay the remnants of a struggle, broken furniture, cracks in the wall, glass on the floor. Ichigo's favorite picture, the only one with the entire family in it, even his mother, lay on the ground, the glass shattered, the photograph ripped in half.

This was always when he made his biggest mistake. He would search the house, desperately hoping that everyone had survived, that his father had managed to fight off whatever sick bastard had tried to ruin their lives. The house was always empty. He would enter his room, the one room he hadn't looked and each time, what he found there would send him into a rage.

The message was always the same, and yet, it always sparked the same burning hatred.

"301 Kakunin St. Warehouse 4. You'll find them there." Simple, but effective. It was a trap, Ichigo had always known this. If he went to this warehouse, he would probably die. But, if sacrificing himself gave him the slightest chance to save his family, he would do so a million times over and a million more after that.

* * *

"Ichigo! Oi, Ichigo, get your fat ass up. Who do you think you are, Stark?"

Ichigo was not sure why his dreaming was being interrupted, and he wasn't sure if he should be grateful for the disturbance or ticked off, but, what he did know, was the foot in his side wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world.

"What?" Ichigo half growled, half groaned. He cracked his eyes open to meet glaring blue everywhere above him.

"Our_ almighty _Lord Aizen_, _wants to see you, strawberry." The blue haired espada snarled viciously.

Ichigo sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, returning Grimmjow's glare. "Don't get pissy with me Grimmjow, you know I don't want to have an intimate, one on one with Lord Aizen." Grimmjow scoffed, but relented. The short tempered Espada had been an ally of sorts from the very moment Aizen had drug Ichigo in to this demented hell. Somehow, as different as they may have been, they had bonded over a common hate of Aizen. Their hate managed to even out their entirely different personalities in a highly improbably way. Yet, Ichigo knew, if they had met on different terms, they would have been enemies.

"Just hurry up, will you? I won't have him blaming me for your insubordinate lack of respect." Grimmjow snarled, sounding frighteningly like Ulquiorra.

"Oh hoh, don't tempt me with such a delicious alternative, Grimmjow. You know I'd get your sadistic ass in trouble any day." Ichigo laughed, brushing the sand from his clothes as he rose to his feet. Grimmjow glared, about to snarl a response, but Ichigo was already walking away, Grimmjow simply wasting oxygen.

"You called for me, Lord Aizen." Ichigo spoke first, coupling his offense with his lack of a bow or inclination of the head, even.

Aizen raised an eyebrow at the young man's disrespect, but did not punish him. Punishments would never work on the insubordinate rebel.

"Please, sit. Have some tea, perhaps." Ichigo raised an eye at the table place, already set, should he accept the offer.

"No, thank you."

Aizen nodded, already expecting the reply. "Straight to the point then." Aizen took a sip of his tea, Ichigo grimacing, thinking of the taste. "I am sending you to the world of the living, Ichigo."

"What?" Ichigo knew his ears weren't functional. He hadn't been allowed out of Hueco Mundo since he had set foot there, that was twenty years ago. Twenty long, stagnant years.

"You will live in the human world as one of the living. You will mingle in their society, learn their ways, and, you still look exactly the same, perhaps you will join one of their schools." Aizen temporarily discarded his tea, looking his subordinate right in the eyes, trying once again to break his will, facing the same sliver of frustration when the brat met his gaze with defiant eyes.

"You will learn all you can about the humans, Ichigo. They have changed in the twenty years we have ignored them. I want to understand these changes."

Ichigo nodded, turning his back to Aizen, taking his leave. It seemed he was to participate in yet another science experiment for the entertainment of Aizen, he just wasn't sure what the point of this one was. In fact, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to find out.

* * *

The rest of Ichigo's dream assaulted his reluctant mind later that evening. It didn't start over from the beginning. No, that would be a courtesy to Ichigo.

The warehouse was dark, but well put together. Not at all abandoned, or decaying as Ichigo had expected. It seemed this person liked to make a statement, that they enjoyed drawing attention to their crimes. First, Ichigo tried a side entrance, only find it tightly padlocked from the inside. That left him with windows too high for him to climb and no side entrances for him to sneak through. With weary resignation, Ichigo stalked back to the front.

As expected the front doors swung open with ease, Ichigo not daring to allow more than a sliver of the moons silver glow in, quickly shutting the door behind him.

"That's a smart boy." The voice was poison, cooing and mocking, arrogant, falsely innocent. Every molecule of Ichigo's being wanted to curl inside itself, to shrink into oblivion. That wasn't the voice of a man with mercy. It seemed those words alone condemned his family. It was the same as if that sick bastard had signed their execution warrant.

Ichigo stared in the voices direction, not able to pin an appearance to the sound. Somehow, the windows were unnaturally dark, not a bit of light penetrating the slick glass.

"They aren't alive, are they?" Ichigo's voice felt cold to him, dead. "You called me here to gaze at their lifeless corpses before you slaughtered me as well."

The clack of boots sounded against the pavement, the killer walking towards him. "Not quite, Ichigo Kurosaki."

Ichigo resisted the urge to shiver, feeling the blood in his veins run cold. It was a show of power, using his name.

"Please, _enlighten_ me." Ichigo forced himself to be snide, to banish the fear from his mind. "Are they alive? Is there something you want in exchange for letting them go?"

"I will not be making an exchange, Ichigo Kurosaki. I _will_ get what I want tonight and I do not need to negotiate in order to do so." The man finally came into view, all white attire bright against the dark, the tail of his coat trailing into the black.

"What is that you want?" Ichigo was starting to lose that cold calm. "The sick thrill of destroying a loving family, perhaps?"

The man cocked his head, watching Ichigo, vaguely reminding the young man of a predator stalking his prey.

"I want your power, Ichigo." Ichigo hated the way this man spoke to him, his sick, arrogant voice eating away at the very thread of Ichigo's humanity.

"I don't have any power." Ichigo scoffed. "If I did, you would have already been dead."

The man grinned, an awful, knowing smirk. "It is your potential power I'm interested in. Not your current, weak state."

Ichigo said nothing, feeling that cold chill spread through his body. He was afraid of this man, this man who reeked of power. It was terribly obvious that he was outmatched.

"Why are you involving them? They don't have to be a part of this."

"Are you sure? They're just about to serve their purpose, Ichigo."

"No. Don't, let them go!" Something snapped, and Ichigo launched himself forward. A glint of silver flashed in his vision, too late for him to dodge. Searing pain exploded in his shoulder. His body rebelled, his head reeled, everything feeling shaky, out of reach. Sneaking a glance, Ichigo found a katana resting in his shoulder, sunken in to the hilt.

With a sadistic grin, the bastard grasped the hilt, ripping the sword from Ichigo's flesh with a sickening squelch. Blood fell from the sword and wound, splattering the floor. Gathering a small amount of Ichigo's blood on his finger's, checking the conistancy, the bastard nodded, seemingly satisfied. He leaned closer, only his face in Ichigo's vision.

"I'm going to destroy you, Ichigo, every last bit until there's nothing left but your soul." Ichigo couldn't stand how much the bastard was enjoying this. " Later, once I've done that, I'm going to rebuild you the way you should have been created, Ichigo." He backed away, out of sight. "Now, sit. Relax." An unbearable pressure forced Ichigo to his knees, his bones creaking in protest against the strain. Ichigo clutched his shoulder, the force against it almost unbearable.

"Watch, Ichigo. This is the beginning of your new existence."

The warehouse lit up, the light wavering in the fires constant movement, the crackling pops filling Ichigo's ears. The man Ichigo would later come to know as Lord Aizen stood against the backdrop of an old fashioned stake, the writhing form of Ichigo's little sister, dear, strong, little Karin, crying and struggling against the rising flames. And Ichigo watched. He screamed, and struggled, and later, after her screams, the horrid cries of pain he would carry with him, eternally imbedded in his soul, _he died_.

**I expect some mixed reviews from this one, I must say. But, good or bad, it doesn't matter, because I really truly enjoyed writing this one. So, if you hate it, call me the very best you can come up with, I guarantee, it won't bother me a bit!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Bleach, the nuclear muffins took all of my money.**

**So, I've got a question for those of you who have read Science Brings People Together. I'd like to know, which you prefer. Do you like my light, fluffy, writing, or are you do you prefer this darker, slightly sadistic style. It won't affect my updating pace or writing, to be honest. I'm simply curious. **

It was interesting, living in the World of the Living. Compared to Soul Society, it was completely alien. Rukia had spent two preliminary days in the Human World and, already, she wasn't sure if she would ever entirely understand all that the humans did and used. Like juice boxes. Those were tools of evil, torturing intent, taunting you with the promise of refreshment that it never intended to provide! But, then, Rukia would have plenty of time to learn, by the looks of things.

Rukia walked up the steps to her apartment, fishing her keys out of her pocket, still marveling over the fact that she had pockets. She fumbled with the lock for a frustrating moment, but then the struggle was over and she was swinging the door open into her empty apartment. Check that, her bare, desolate, depressing apartment. Not that furniture was needed, just yet. She wouldn't be moving in for a few days until Byakuya had the apartment modified to suit a Kuchiki. Truthfully, it was only being used as a gigantic closet for storing Rukia's gigai while she returned to Soul Society until her apartment was ready.

Rukia discarded her gigai, glad to leave the unfamiliar form. She was to wait until a representative from soul society opened the senkaimon. So, with nothing else to do, Rukia waited. She only hoped she wouldn't be waiting long.

* * *

As if on cue, short, light taps rapped on Ichigo's door, waking him like every other morning.

"It is time to wake up, Master Kurosaki." A slight woman with short, tame black hair stepped into the room, immediately bustling around, Ichigo following her movements with half lidded eyes, still clouded with sleep.

"Good morning, Ms. Anzu." Ichigo said while he stretched, drawing the stiffness out of his long dormant muscles.

Anzu bowed her head, as was expected of a maid. "Good morning, Master Kurosaki." And within seconds she was back to work, not losing her stride.

Ichigo stood, waltzing over to his morning tea, luckily, not the awful, revolting crud Aizen served, but good, high quality tea. Immediately Anzu was there, serving as she spoke.

"This morning's tea is Earl Grey, served with scones and fresh fruit."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, accepting the cup Anzu offered. "English, this morning?" She nodded, stepping away, probably to continue whatever it was she had been doing before. Ichigo sat, enjoying his tea, glad to find peace in one small part of his day.

"Master Kurosaki, we must discuss today's schedule." Anzu was at his side, head bowed, hands clasped in front of here. Ichigo would have wondered how she managed to do everything so quickly and efficiently if he hadn't already been used to it.

"Go on then. Do your worst."

She nodded, probably taking him seriously.

"Today you will be visiting the World of the Living. You will spend the day there and return this evening. Lord Aizen asks that you do your best to become acquainted with the living world before your assignment there."

Ichigo nodded, setting his tea down, having finished.

"Will you take breakfast in your quarters, or with the other Espada, Master Kurosaki."

"With the other Espada." Ichigo would never hear the end of it if he didn't say farewell and he knew the other were waiting in the dining room for that specific purpose.

"Of course. I shall be taking my leave now, Master Kurosaki. I shall inform the chefs of your decision." She left, backing from the room, her head still bowed.

As usual, Anzu had laid Ichigo's clothes out, an outfit in similar design to all of the espada. It was white and black, as was expected, with the customary hakama and black sash. The only differences were the shirt, a fully sleeved, tightly fitted coat with a long tail, black on the inside, white on the outside. The coat was open to Ichigo's lower stomach, closing with a single black button, only serving to hold the other side in place with a loop of sturdy, black string. From there it tapered out and behind, the ends jagged and torn. In addition to the coat, Ichigo's stomach, chest and shoulder's were covered with black strips of fabric, closely resembling bandages.

Ichigo dressed, carefully covering each of his wrist's in the same black fabric as his torso, covering his number and rank. That done, he left the room, coat tail trailing behind him.

* * *

Luckily, Rukia did not have to wait long for the Senkaimon to open. And then, thankfully, the trip to Soul Society was short and silent.

It was kind of nice, entering familiar settings, like coming back home. Rukia couldn't help but find herself looking on every piece of Seireitei endearingly, be it the 3rd division's constant, rowdy attitude or the 11th division's idiotic disregard for their surroundings as they fought in the most inconvenient places over the most insignificant quarrels.

Rukia headed past all of this, aiming, first, to reach her own squad and captain before being bombarded with a thousand other obstacles. If she managed to accomplish that, she would then visit her brother, as he probably expected her to. And then, if she survived that she would make her best attempt to avoid all living (in a manner of speaking) contact, instead holing up in her bedroom, lazing the day away. Of course, she knew that the end goal was sure to be nothing more than a haunting dream.

Rukia sighed bitterly, wishing, for once, that she was someone less significant.

* * *

'Yo, King.'

'What is it, Shirosaki?' Ichigo had grown used to the uninvited room intruder in his soul. For years now, it was not uncommon for Ichigo to have whole conversations with the hollow. And, though they had begun their relationship as enemies, they had formed a small semblance of friendship. If, of course, you can form a friendship with a homicidal, demented leech living in your soul.

'Do you think we'll be able to adjust, to the real world I mean?'

'I don't know. We haven't been there in twenty years. I imagine everything has changed.' Both a blessing and a curse.

Shirosaki stayed silent a moment, Ichigo knowing that he hadn't exactly set the hollow up with the greatest material to reply upon. "So long as you think you can handle it, King."

Ichigo scowled, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Shirosaki had already retreated deeper into Ichigo's soul. Grumbling, hating when Shirosaki pulled that same, infuriating move, Ichigo navigated out of his personal quarters, stepping out into the brightly lit, obnoxiously white halls of Hueco Mundo.

After a few wrong turns, and a good many curses, Ichigo finally managed find the dining room. Infuriatingly, it seemed that everyone there had no such trouble navigating the eternal maze of Hueco Mundo.

"Szayel, did you change the corridors?" Ichigo demanded, striding in, eyes resting on three of his involuntary comrades.

The pink haired man nodded, peering at Ichigo from behind the glare of his glasses. "They needed to be redone. Something about them was just…wrong." Szayel was always rearranging Hueco Mundo, practically turning the palace into his own plaything.

"And I suppose the rest of you arrived by following Szayel's spiritual pressure, seeing as he would be the only one knowing the layout of the halls."

Ulquiorra nodded, not replying with his voice, his eerie orbs of emerald green watching Ichigo from across the room. His eyes were always on Ichigo, observing his major actions. Ichigo had no doubt it was an order given by Aizen.

"You could have done the same, Ichigo." Stark mumbled sleepily, head resting on the table, face to the side, a puddle of drool forming beneath him.

"No, I couldn't have. I'm awful with that stuff."

Stark cracked open an eye, staring at the odd young taking a seat beside him. They were all aware that Aizen had forced Ichigo to learn, refusing to allow the young man to have any weakness that could possibly be rectified. Still, Ichigo was stubborn and behaved as though he still had that particular crutch.

Grimmjow came stumbling in at that moment, looking lost and confused.

"Szayel, did you rearrange the hallways again?" The temperamental Espada looked to be in an even worse mood that usual, as amazing as that was.

Szayel nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Is this a problem, Grimmjow?"

"Hell yeah, it's a problem! I was just attacked by a room full of menos! I didn't even know we had menos in here! And, now that I do know, I can't understand why they're next to the dining room!"

"Surely you can handle a few menos, Grimmjow," Ichigo knew he was asking for trouble, but hell, he was in a bad mood and needed some stress relief. Bickering and possibly sparring with Grimmjow seemed like the perfect outlet.

"Of course I can handle a room full of pipsqueak menos!" Grimmjow growled, turning on Ichigo like a rabid animal.

"Excuse me for my mistake, but, I simply assumed that one complained when they had a problem. But, seeing as you have no problem, I must have been wrong. I should have known it was only you bitching."

"Let's see you handle it if you're so fucking tough!" Grimmjow always seemed to forget that Ichigo was the stronger of the two. But, Ichigo had to admire his persistence, or was that stupidity.

"Is this a challenge, Grimmjow?" Ichigo hadn't had pounding an entire room of Menos in mind, but, he was more than willing to compromise.

"Wait a minute!" Szayel demanded. "I need those Menos! You can't just do whatever the hell you want with them!" Unfortunately for Szayel, he went ignored.

"Hell yes, it's a challenge." Grimmjow howled.

Ichigo grinned, loving the way his worries were ebbing away. "Take me to the Menos then. The sooner the better."

Grimmjow replied by twirling on his heel, marching out of the room. Ichigo wasn't the only one to follow, everyone, even Stark trailing behind. They were led into a sitting room, a place full of furniture designed for appearance more so than comfort. Another door was set against the back wall, an extraordinarily ordinary door.

"They're in here." Grimmjow walked to the door, Ichigo wondering why there was no warning, or lock at least. Did Szayel want to kill, maim and or injure people?

Once inside, Ichigo could understand why Grimmjow had made a fuss. First of all, the room was _huge_ and, better yet, positively filled with Menos.

"Well, hell, Grimmjow. This is going to be fun."

Grimmjow grinned, unsheathing his sword. "Grind, Pantera!"

"Oi, that isn't fair, you psychotic, demented bastard! I don't even have a Zanpakuto!"

"Not my fucking problem!" Grimmjow laughed, launching himself at a Menos, not only using his resurreccion form, but also getting a head start.

' Come on, King! This looks like fun!' Shirosaki cackled, drawn out by the fight. Ichigo couldn't help but agree. Grinning, he leapt into the fight, enthusiasm that rivaled even Grimmjow.

Grimmjow would need that head start.

* * *

"Lord Aizen, is it true that yer sending Berry to the Human World?" Gin stepped into the treasury room, finding Aizen once again observing the Hougyoku, a peculiar habit no one could seem to understand.

"Yes. Our Cero Espada deserves a bit of a vacation, don't you agree?" Aizen was provoking his albino subordinate and partner in crime. It was well known, Gin didn't like Ichigo.

"It'll get him outta Heuco Mundo and away from me, so I ain't gonna complain." Gin replied.

Aizen smiled, closing his eyes, and then opening them again, a new hardness in his gaze. "Tell me Gin, what is it about Ichigo that rattles you so?"

Gin lost his own smile. "The kid's just creepy, Lord Aizen. Feels like he's always reading my mind, poking in my thoughts."

"He's getting more powerful. I'll have to put another restriction on him soon." Aizen changed the subject, sounding proud, Ichigo's power being his own doing.

"Does this have anything to do with sending him to the Human World, Lord Aizen?"

Aizen looked at his frequent companion, no more trusting him than the mouse trusts the snake. He knew Gin was simply biding his time, waiting for a pinnacle moment. Whatever happened then would determine whom Gin would throw his loyalties with, ever the opportunist.

"Gin, did you know, Soul Society has sent a Shinigami into the Human World? A Ms. Rukia Kuchiki, to be exact."

"I'm afraid not, Lord Aizen. Perhaps I'm not payin as much attention as I need to."

"Ms. Rukia Kuchiki is quite the interesting young woman. Strong, fiery, noble. I wonder how she would react to meeting a peculiarity like Ichigo while on her mission in the Human World? Don't you, Gin?"

**I know, this was a total filler, but, hey, what's an author to do? Fillers are required for our mental well being, or, well, what's **_**left**_** of our mental well being, that is. **


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Bleach.

**Sorry, it isn't perfect, and it's terribly, awfully overdue! Please, forgive me!**

"Only in hindsight does one realize what an idiot they've been." Rukia muttered, quoting one of her least favorite proverbs, or, well, a version of her least favorite proverb. It always seemed to come to mind each time she left one of her, all too, frequent visits with Byakuya.

Sighing, Rukia noted, that last particular visitation had stolen the remainder of her evening. By then, she was too drained to deal with any further stress. The only plan her deliriously fried mind could formulate was the relaxing process of sleep. It was simply getting to the place of slumber that posed a problem.

"Oi, Rukia! You're back!" A spiky mess of red was bouncing towards her and all Rukia could think of was pineapples. It took a precious few moments to realize the head of red pineapple belonged to Renji.

In the time it had taken Rukia to recognize her best friend, the man had already reached her, thus eliminating the dirty tactic of pretending to have not heard him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back? Were you even going to come see me?"

"I had business, Renji. I didn't have the time."

Renji pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. Rukia mirrored his image, though glaring instead. Foolish Renji should have known better than to enter a glaring contest with Rukia. Sure enough, a minute later, he averted his eyes with a scowl, leaving Rukia feeling triumphant.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I should have realized that." Renji grumbled, Rukia absolutely _drowning_ in sympathetic guilt.

"It doesn't matter." Rukia began making her exit. She still had time for a bath, so long as she hurried.

"Hey, Rukia! Where are you going?" Renji demanded.

"Bed." Rukia replied without turning around, waving a lazy hand good bye.

* * *

"It seems Ichigo is the winner," Stark reported. "What a shocker."

"Shut up!" Grimmjow snarled.

Stark just shrugged, too lazy to engage Grimmjow in any way, be it argument or conversation. Just using sarcasm had sapped all of his energy.

"It isn't Stark's fault you're such a fool, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra spoke up, never missing an opportunity to undermine the Sexta Espada.

" Nobody asked for your opinion!"

"Neither did anyone object."

"Do you wanna have a go?"

"So I may beat you as effectively as Ichigo?"

"Don't look down on me!"

Already they had moved on without him, for which Ichigo was grateful. He faded to the back round, brooding, as always, after a smooth victory. It seemed as though, with every fight, the sliver of possibility regarding his defeat, shrunk further into itself. Not for the first time, Ichigo wished to be someone weaker, someone of less significance.

Ichigo repressed a growl, only becoming more irritated with himself for even being irritated in the first place! Had he not been the one to initiate the challenge? Did that not steal away his right to mope, winner or not?

He needed a distraction, anything to take away yet another reminder of his position. Ichigo could think of nothing. Nothing within Hueco Mundo, anyway.

"I'm leaving now." Ichigo announced, without warning, of course, opening a Garganta. It proved to be a distraction for his fellow Espada, drawing more attention than Ichigo would have liked, but just as much as he had expected. Though, they should have been used to his spontaneous behavior by then.

"Don't you want to wait for everyone else?" Stark asked.

Ichigo shook his head. "There's no point. It's been too long to expect anyone else."

"Che! Whatever, Strawberry. If you're gonna be in such a crappy mood, don't bother coming back." Grimmjow muttered.

Ichigo didn't bother replying. Fighting with Grimmjow had turned bitter.

"I'll be returning later this evening. Have the servants prepare my dinner, please." Ichigo didn't care who took the request. He was in that empty zone of disregard and disinterest. Hardly paying attention, Ichigo stepped into the Garganta, making his path as he trudged forward, hands in his pocket, thoughts swallowed by black.

* * *

Aizen felt the boy leave, unhappy with the substantial difference. The boy's absence could be felt throughout every corner of Hueco Mundo. Aizen didn't like it.

Already, he had put five power restrictions on the boy, that, with the added measure of separating him from Zanpakuto. Even with those restrictions, he was two times more powerful than an Espada, though he himself was loathe to admit it. At his current pace of growth, and with his restrictions removed, he would be at Aizen's level, possibly higher, within a few years. This left the former shinigami in a peculiar predicament.

Aizen could almost understand Gin's relief at Ichigo's departure. The fear of the boy's potential was swiftly creeping on him. It was unsettling, how easily Ichigo grew. For the first time, Aizen began to wonder if he would have to eliminate his favorite experiment.

* * *

"So, your brother has finally decided which school you'll be attending." Rukia was locked in yet another briefing with Captain Ukitake. It seemed, Soul Society was determined to ensure every part of her mission was covered, planned, and briefed, without allowing her a wink of sleep, of course!

"It seems Byakuya has chosen a private school by the name of Karakura Academy. It's only for high class society, it seems. Also, you're to stay in dorms on the academy, so you're apartment is no longer needed. It isn't a gender exclusive school, and apparently, they don't separate sexes by dorm rooms either." Ukitake frowned at that. "So, prepare yourself Rukia. You'll be spending a near twenty four hours each day with human teenagers."

"I'm not supposed to be happy about this, am I, Captain?"

"I don't expect you to be, no."

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure I could pull of the proper enthusiasm."

* * *

The Real World was insane and beautiful all in one! The people, the buildings, the technology! It was all one overwhelming mess of information and emotion at once! Within seconds of arriving, Ichigo was thoroughly bewildered and loving every second of it.

'Is this freedom?' Ichigo wondered vaguely. It was as though he was finally out of Aizen's reach, no longer under his watchful gaze. Truly, it had been years since Ichigo had felt so damn good!

Ichigo wandered into some sort of market place, a mall, the sign said. Whatever it was, people flocked like bees to honey. They all parted before him, yet never noticing themselves doing so. It was comforting, knowing he could be in an enormous crowd of people without notice. At Hueco Mundo, it seemed like people were always noticing him. But then, Ichigo could never have as much luck he'd thought.

"You there! Arrancar! Stop what you're doing!" Ichigo did stop, his good spirits deflating with the familiar recognition of good old, pain in the ass, trouble.

He knew it would only dig the grave deeper, but he turned, facing a squad of four Shinigami, their weapons poised for attack. "It's Espada, actually."

To the Shinigami's credit, only one of them let slip of his emotions, eyes widening with surprise or fright, Ichigo did not know. He needed practice reading human emotions.

"What are you doing here, Espada? What do you want with the humans?" The same woman spoke every time, obviously the impromptu leader. They seemed so out of place compared to swarm of said humans parting around them.

"I'm not here to massacre them or feast on their souls, if, pray tell, that's what you're asking." Ichigo couldn't help but be mocking. It was worth the tight grimace that crossed the shinigami woman's face. That might be one emotion he would enjoy in the days to come.

"It doesn't matter what dirty work Aizen has sent you for, you aren't welcome here."

Ichigo raised a eyebrow, staring down at the Shinigami condescendingly.

"Is that so? Am I not allowed to cross into the Real World? Your job is to protect souls in danger, not to attack the innocent."

"Innocent, you claim? Then tell me, Espada, how many human souls have you devoured?"

"None."

"You can't expect me to believe that."

"You're right. There's not a single thing I can expect you to believe." Ichigo replied earnestly. "But, I can ask you to believe this, I don't want to fight you. I'd rather not start a war with Soul Society."

"You and your lord started a war when you killed Head Captain Yamamoto!"

Ichigo frowned, trying to remember a Yamamoto. "I'm sorry, but, who?"

"How dare you!" One of the men hissed, finally speaking up. They all brandished their weapons, moving from defense to offense pretty quick. Ichigo was still trying to figure out what it was he'd down wrong.

"Hey now! You wouldn't attack an unarmed man! That's just dishonorable!" Ichigo cried, trying not to let the mocking tone of his voice ruin it while raising his hands in defeat. He wasn't sure what exactly these Shinigami wanted from him. Trapped in Hueco Mundo all those years, he didn't know the proper protocol between Shinigami and Hollows.

"There is no honor in fighting hollows!" The female shinigami hissed. Ichigo watched her muscles tense the slightest fraction, sidestepping her shunpo with ease. A low growl she couldn't suppress escaped her lips as she used her momentum to swing her blade to follow Ichigo.

Ichigo jumped into the air, a second blade whistling from behind him. He decided to simply stay there, wondering if these shinigami had learned that particular trick yet. Apparently not, as they simply stood below him, gazing up.

"I'll have to cut this short, Shinigami. Sayonara!" It seemed like the best route, all things considered. A single shunpo later and trouble was behind him. It seemed Shinigami would be part of the fun, here in the World of the Living.


End file.
